The Art of the Con
by theperfectstorm
Summary: Sometimes bad guys are the only good guys you get. Leverage based. I'm horrible at summaries, but I hope you give it a shot!
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys! This is my first fanfic, so it might not be the best, but I'm trying and hopefully it'll get better. I will be using a few characters from Criminal Minds as well, but I didn't think that was enough to characterize it as a crossover, so that's why I left it alone.

This is based off of the TNT show "Leverage", so if you watch that a lot of this will be familiar. I did switch some things up, though. I want to set up how everyone meets/their first job before I go off onto something different. If you haven't watched it before, I recommend it because it's perfect!

I don't have anything other than this typed out yet because I wanted to see if people would even be interested before I continued. So let me know, any kind of review is welcome and appreciated! I'm going away for the weekend and there's testing going on in school for a good month, but if people are interested I'd definitely try to get more up as soon as possible.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Castle/Leverage or any of their characters.

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><p><span>Chapter 1<span>

Richard Castle, ex insurance investigator, sat alone on a tall stool, surrounded by shelves of alcohol and pictures hung proudly in frames. It was a large room, bare aside from those frames, occupied only with a bar and tables situated behind him, which were also vacant. He stared at his hands splayed out on the counter top as the bar tender poured him yet another drink.

"The next shuttle to the airport should be in 15 minutes, sir," he said once he was done pouring, throwing the hand towel over his shoulder before whisking off into the back room again.

Richard didn't say anything; instead he only nodded slightly before paying his attention to the glass in front of him. He stirred the golden liquid around, placing the glass to his lips, but he was interrupted by a foreign voice before he could enjoy the drink.

"Mr. Castle?" He didn't turn, but shifted his eyes towards the source of the sound, leaving his body facing the bar. "I'm sorry. I uh, I know who you are, I've read about you. That stolen Van Gogh painting you found a few years back, that was brilliant. It probably saved your insurance company millions of dollars, but you already know that. You always came through. But I know that when you needed them, they- what happened to your family was-"

Richard turned his body so he was now face to face with the man, cutting him off. "You know that part of the conversation where I punch you in the neck 5 or 6 times? It's approaching very quickly," he barked out in a low, husk voice, letting the glare of his eyes do more of the talking – or yelling, perhaps.

The man stumbled back a bit, looking slightly more nervous than he did a few seconds ago. "I'm only here to offer you a job."

Richard paused for a second before replying, "Well, what do you got?"

The man to his left, who introduced himself as Vladimir Khrushchev, started to explain why he came. Something of his – airplane designs – had been stolen from him by a man he knew. Dick Coonan.

Richard seemed confused. "So, what? You want me to find them?"

"Oh no, I know where they are," Vladimir replied quickly, looking unsure of his next choice of words. He took a short breath before continuing, "I want you to steal them back."

There was a long pause after his request, and the somewhat concentrated look on Richard's face suggested that he was thinking about everything he had just been told. Vladimir sat quietly next to him, studying his features, looking for any indication as to what he was thinking. What he was deciding to do. After what seemed like forever, Richard finally broke the silence.

"I don't know." He wasn't too convinced. He had just met this man not even an hour ago, and here he was asking him to take on this job. The one question that kept running through his mind was, why him? Had he just done some research and come across his name? It was possible. He didn't exactly have the cleanest record. It was mostly disorderly conduct though, far from theft, which brought about that question again. He had all the reason to be skeptical. Before he could transcend deeper into thought, Vladimir's voice brought him back to reality.

"Please, before you decide. Look at the people I've already hired," the man begged, shoving a folder across the table into Richard's view. "Do you recognize any of these names?"

Richard took the folder and opened it, revealing a pile of papers on numerous people. He rummaged through, using his fingers to go from file to file, skimming over all of the information he could process.

After a few moments he spoke up. "Yeah, I've chased all of them at one time or another," he replied, his eyes still aimed down at the names in front of him. He stopped when he saw one in particular. "Jennifer? You have… Jennifer?"

"Is there somebody better?"

He looked up slowly, catching the Vladimir's eyes. "No," he dragged his words out, as if talking to an illiterate, "but Jennifer's insane."

"That's exactly why I need you, Mr. Castle."

Richard closed the folder, placed it on the table and looked up. "No," he let out a small chuckle, "I'm not a thief."

The man shook his head with an amused look on his face. "No. Thieves I've got. What I need is you – an honest man who can watch them."

Everyone that he hired to do the job was a criminal in one way or another. They each had their own set of perfected skills. A certain job they did. And while they each did that job damn well, they worked alone. They _always_ worked alone. In order for this to go forward as planned and succeed, it had to be a team effort. He wasn't sure any of them knew how to be on a team.

"They'll never work for you."

The man seemed unphased by what Richard had to say and only reassured him further. "They will. Trust me. For three thousand dollars each, they will."

He had a point. If anything was going to persuade a criminal to take on a job that wasn't their usual cup of tea, it was money.

He continued, "And for you, for heading this entire operation, it would be double. Please! Look at me here, I'm desperate."

Richard thought about it for a moment and looked at the man in front of him, weighing his options. Before he could fully collect his thoughts and make a decision, Vladimir began to speak once again.

"There would be a bonus. Coonan is insured by IYA, your old bosses. You of all people should know how much they're worth," he paused, waiting for some kind of response. Richard stared blankly and let his head bob into a small nod, but remained silent. _50 million dollars,_ he thought.

"Mr. Castle. How badly do you want to screw the insurance company that let your daughter die?"

Richard's eyes darted to the man in an icy glare, not so much aimed at Vladimir himself, but at what he had brought up. That single incentive, however, was the only thing he needed to push him over the edge into taking the deal. He wanted to do more than screw over IYA. He wanted to make them regret that very day they all remembered far too well. The day whose events they take no responsibility for whatsoever. The day he relives over and over every single night to the point where it's unhealthy. He wanted them to pay.

But since he couldn't kill them, screwing them over was going to have to do.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days had passed since Richard agreed to take on this job. He still wasn't a hundred percent positive how he felt about his upcoming thievery, but he _was_ sure that he wanted IYA to suffer and because of that, he tucked his lingering doubts and questions away. Over the span of those few days, he met with Vladimir again to go over the basics. He wasn't fond of the man, but he wanted to hear it all again. He spent a few hours with Vladimir and they didn't ease his doubts. It seemed the longer he sat with him, the more something seemed… _off_. Richard couldn't place his finger on what it was, but like his doubts, he pushed it aside and hoped everything would play out.

After their meeting, Richard began the walk back to his apartment above McRory's bar. It wasn't a long commute, but the cold and bitterness of the air caused his teeth to chatter involuntarily. Instinctively, Richard crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his hands up and down his arms in an attempt to gather some warmth. Another 10 minutes passed before he reached his destination and was forced to unwillingly unhook his arms to take the keys out of his pocket.

Richard stepped inside and took a few steps before turning around to lock the door behind him. After a short pause, he walked behind the bar and reached for a small glass. _Should I?_ He was trying to cut back on the drinking, he really was. He just didn't always follow through, that's all. Finally deciding against it, Richard put the glass back in its place and started up the stairs to his apartment.

Once upstairs, Richard kicked his shoes off into the corner. He walked a few more steps before discarding his coat and throwing it across the back of the couch. He stood back and took a good look at his surroundings, something he hadn't done in a while. His apartment seemed to mirror himself lately, he noticed. Hollow. It had nice furniture and a few knickknacks here and there, but it was far from being personalized. There was no depth. The walls were an unoriginal off-white color with a rare picture frame every so many feet and the curtains were a pale blue. The essentials were all there; a stove, a fridge, a television, a couch, a few chairs, but not much else. And considering it was a somewhat large apartment, that was odd. _It wasn't always like this_, he remembered. At one point, there were pictures covering these same walls. There were toys and coloring books thrown throughout the rooms. Small clothes painted the floors and all of the furniture. There were hand drawn masterpieces hung proudly on the fridge. The day she died was the day all of that changed. He couldn't bring himself to look at those reminders of what was every single day. So he took them all down. He put them away. The only thing he hadn't touched or changed in any way was her room.

The distant sound of a siren outside broke him out of his daze. "Dammit," he muttered under his breath.

He took another second before making his way to his bedroom. He flipped the light on and rummaged through his dresser to find a shirt and a pair of boxers to change into.

After he changed, he sat down on the edge of his bed and placed his head into his hands. He stayed like that for a few minutes before he picked his head back up and looking into the mirror to his left at the face staring back at him. His eyes had black circles beneath them, his face looked somewhat sunken in, and he was pale. He sighed. He hated nights like these.

Something caught his eye, sitting on the corner of the night stand beside him. He let the ends lips curve slightly upward as he picked it up. A photograph of a smiling little girl, about 5 at the time, with flaming red hair.

_It'll be worth it,_ Richard thought while he repositioned himself, his back now pressed firmly against the backboard.

"It's all for you, baby girl," he whispered down to the picture in his hand before setting it back on the stand and turning off the light.

…

It was Friday night, the night of the heist. Everything was set up in a large room inside the office building across from the one they would be retrieving the designs from. There was a high tech digital screen set up against one of the walls that splayed out a map of the other building.

Richard was perched in this room with his ear buds in while the rest of the team – if you'd even call it that – was on top of the IYA building readying themselves for the task.

"I don't want any surprises now," Richard spoke into the com, fully aware that the only person on the other side with their ear piece in was Ryan. Kevin Ryan was brilliant at what he did – hacking. He was the hacker extraordinaire, you could say. When he was seventeen, he used his skills to reserve the executive suite at a high end hotel as Mick Jagger. When the staff finally realized Mick Jagger was in fact not there, they opened the suite to find him in the room being fawned over by women in bikinis.

He heard an amused laugh on the other end. "I've been doing this since high school, bro, I'm captain discipline." _Right._

Ryan turned to the man behind him and handed over an ear bud. "It's a bone conduction ear piece mic, it works off the vibrations in your jaw."

The tall, brawny man, Javier Esposito, took the bud from his hands and brought it up to his ear.

"You can hear everything," Ryan whispered. The ear piece picked it up loud and clear, further proving his statement.

"You're not as useless as you look," Javier replied dryly, earning a sideways look from Ryan.

Ryan turned back around before muttering, "I don't even know what you do."

Javier grinned, remembering that time in Leskovac, Serbia when he took out 12 armed men and left without a scratch. Good times.

A third person suddenly made an appearance, hanging upside down from a set of bars above their heads. Jennifer.

"Can I have one?" she asked, referring to the box of coms Ryan was currently holding in his hands.

He held the box up to her, smiling, "You can have the whole thing."

Jennifer smiled, taking one from the box before retreating back on top of the bars. Once she was out of hearing range, Javier laughed.

"What is she going to say when she finds out you live with your mother?"

Ryan just grinned and tucked the small box back into his jacket pocket, "Age of the geek, baby."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," Javier replied before walking away.

…

Everyone was now on the other side of the roof, still a safe distance from the edge. Jennifer was setting up her rig, playing with the wires until they were just right. She was already harnessed in and began to adjust the hat on her head.

"Is this thing safe?" Javier questioned, holding out the ear piece out in front of him.

Ryan had his back towards him, but by the way Javier's voice sounded, he knew what he was inquiring about. "Oh, it's completely safe. You know, if you experience nausea, weakness in your right side, stroke, strokeyness…"

Javier turned back towards Ryan in the middle of securing his ear bud, a disapproving look plastered on his hard face. "You're exactly why I work alone."

"Guys!" Richard's voice popped back up into their ears, "We're gonna go on my count, not a second sooner. Jennifer, no freelancing."

"Relax, we know what we're doing," Javier uttered, somewhat annoyed by Richard's obvious distrust.

"On the count of five. Five, four-"

Before Richard could finish his count, Jennifer was already running full speed behind Ryan and Javier towards the edge.

Javier noticed and sighed, "She's gone."

"Son of a bitch," Richard cursed, pressing his hands against the glass window that allowed him view of the building across the street.

Jennifer ran until there was no more ground left and jumped over the edge of the roof, arms wide and a grin on her face. Richard watched from the window and the boys ran to the edge to look down at the ever descending Jennifer. She continued flying down 16 stories until she came to a halt and reached the floor they needed.

"That's twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag," Javier shook his head.


End file.
